Skinny Love
by The procrastination station
Summary: In the wake of Andromeda's elopement, the Black family finds itself a little more broken than they were before. Short vignettes, multi-POV.
1. Chapter 1: Sirius

**Title:** Skinny Love  
**Genre:** Family/Angst  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary:** In the wake of Andromeda running away, the Black family finds itself a little more broken than they were before. Short vignettes, multi-POV.  
**Author's Note:** Andromeda and the dynamics of the Black Family fascinate me. I kind of view her marriage to Ted as the initial fissure that eventually expanded and destroyed the family. This story is written in nine short parts for each of the family members impacted by her decision to leave. As Bellatrix, Sirius, and Narcissa are the only ones mentioned at any length in the books, I took some creative liberties in developing the other characters. Please read, review, and enjoy.

**Chapter One: Sirius**

_**"I told you to be patient"**_

From downstairs, his parent's voices carried, quick and angry. He had been sent to his room, but had heard enough to know.

He had run away from home plenty of times. Sometimes he stayed at Uncle Alphard's flat. Other times he stayed with Uncle Cynagus and Aunt Druella. Once he had even spent the night in St. James's Park. But no matter where he ran off to, he was always back in his bed by morning.

The last time he had run away, Andy had been the one to find him, perched on the roof of a parapet at Grandfather's.

* * *

_"I'm not going back," he said, pulling his knees up to his chest._

_"Never said you were."_

_Andromeda settled next to him on the roof, letting her long legs dangle off the edge._

_Not sparing her a glance, Sirius tried to resume his silent fuming, hoping his cousin would take the hint and leave. However, Andy seemed happily oblivious, resting back on her elbows, her face tilted up towards the sunlight._

_They stayed that way for a long time, neither speaking, or moving. Just sitting._

_"I hate her," he said, finally breaking the silence. He kept his gaze focused fiercely on the horizon, his hands clenched at his sides._

_His words seemed suspended in the air, lingering around them, waiting to be confirmed or recognized, as if that would make them true._

_Andy did not need to ask who "her" was, or even respond. If she didn't believe him, she was good enough not to say so. She just continued to squint up at the clouds, her legs swinging idly off the edge._

_"You know," she said, angling her body towards him. "I suspect somewhere in this mop there is some bit of cleverness," she grinned, reaching over to ruffle his hair good-naturedly._

_He swatted her hand away, but she reached out and grabbed his wrist. Any plans for retaliation were halted, when he caught her suddenly serious expression. "One day you'll get out of here and do great things," she said, her voice soft but firm._

_Whether her words were a promise or a prayer, neither knew entirely, but both desperately tried to believe them._

_"When?" he asked quietly._

_"One day."_

_"Not soon enough."_

_Andy shrugged, looking up at the sky once more. "Don't try to grow up too fast, kid. Be patient. Your time will come."_

_Andy reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. Sirius felt a warm rush of affection for his cousin._

_"Can I take you home now?" Andromeda grinned, elbowing him lightly in the side._

_"Fine" he said, giving her a good nudge back._

_Andromeda stood up, brushing dirt off the back of her trousers. She offered him a hand, but he ignored her. He'd go with her, but he didn't have to be happy about it._

_"Lets get going then, ragamuffin," Andromeda said, mounting her broom. "Aunt Walburga was about to send out the hounds."_

_She shot him a wink before kicking off the roof, and making a series of loops towards a ridge of trees._

_Scrambling for his broom, Sirius kicked off after her, but she was already disappearing beyond the ridge._

* * *

The voices downstairs had quieted, and the silence seemed to hang heavy like a fog about his room.

Sirius lay back on his bed, trying to ignore the painful tightening in his chest.

This time was different than any of the thirty-two times he had run away. This time, no matter how much he wished it, Andy would not be back in her bed by morning.


	2. Chapter 2: Cygnus

**Author's Note: **The muses were with me today, so I'm posting twice. This next chapter is in the POV of Andromeda's father, Cygnus. I've had fun creating the mutli-generational dynamics of the family, and this is the first character I had to really develop from the ground up, so I hope you like it. Please read, review and enjoy!

**Chapter Two: Cygnus **

_**"I told you to be fine"**_

Cygnus stared at the tumbler in his hand. The amber liquid contoured to the facets in the glass, sparkling in the light thrown from the fireplace.

He had found the bottle locked in the bottom drawer of his desk. It was unopened, a Christmas present long forgotten. Cygnus had never cared for the stuff. He had seen enough of what it had done to his elder brother to know better.

It was because of Alphard's drinking, Cygnus had been denied the luxury and easy security of being the second son. Instead of a quiet simple home and a small but fruitful career at the Ministry, he had dutifully shouldered the responsibility of the family, the estate, and all that came with it.

This room was his refuge from it. Here he was free of Alphard's self-destructive ambivalence, and his father's disappointment, and Walburga's greed. Druella and the girl's were not permitted to enter, and neither were the elves. It was his place and his alone, a haven from the world.

But on some nights, after the lights had been turned down and the house put to sleep, Andy would sneak out from her bed and find her way into his study. In only a nightdress and dressing gown, she would bound in, her plaited hair swinging wildly behind her. Pulling a deck of cards from her pocket, she would settle on the ottoman, her feet tucked up underneath her, an impish grin on her face.

They would play Exploding Snap well into the night. He kept a tin of biscuits on the mantle, and they would eat, and play, and laugh, always carful not to disturb the rest of the house. Once, during a particularly spirited round, an afghan Druella had knitted him was singed. Folding the burnt side in, they carefully draped it over the back of a chair. It was their little secret.

With a sigh, Cygnus took a sip from his glass. The liquid burned down his throat, unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Bracing himself, he took another swig.

The whiskey began to seep into his head, dulling the ache, but ultimately nothing changes.

He still wishes for his girl to come padding in barefoot and grinning, to play a few hands, and to let him know that everything would be fine.


End file.
